Lepers
by redbone135
Summary: A Gisborne and Marian slightly Au oneshot.


___Ok, so it's a bit Au, I stopped really watching aft6er this part, so it doesn't follow the plot exactly. Its point was mainly to [prove to my friend that I could write something more emo then her. Why are you reading the author's notes?_

_~Sir Guy of Gisborne~_

"Are you still crying over her? Lepers, Gisborne, Lepers," the sheriff reminded him.

And what could he say? Was he? His face had gone numb with his heart hours ago. Did the tears still leek from his eyes, and did he will them to do so? Why be heartbroken over someone who had never loved him? It had all been fake, oh, how he could see it now that he had removed himself from the situation.

A thin trickle of red slid down his face, leaving a trace like a scar. So he was still bleeding as well.

"Love, I've found no use for it in my time. Love fades and morphs into scars and hatred. Power, now power, Gisborne, lasts forever."

Weakness lasted forever too. This pain, as if she had removed his heart and shoved it back down his throat, or better yet, down her own love's throat, this would undoubtedly last forever. The pain would dull, but the memories would scar.

Sitting in the dark room with the sheriff pacing behind him, his body thrown over the chair like last year's leather, he could see clearly through the tears. He could see better then he had before through dry eyes.

"You know what I've always found mends a broken heart? Arson," the sheriff said with a slick smile, Gisborne could already see his plan forming in his head. Could he bring himself to do something so terrible to her home? To her life? The bleeding wound on his cheek said he could.

And yet a deeper pain then the mere flesh wound dug into him. Like a poison tipped dagger had been thrust into his arm, condemning him to slowly bleed his way away, or to escape through the slow spread of poison. He had always said she was as sharp as a dagger, but now he knew she stung like one too.

"Dry your tears, I have no more patience left. It should be your reputation you fear for, not your heart. Love fades Gisborne, but your reputation stays with you forever. Everyone watched her leave you at the alter. They watched her dig that beautiful ring you gave her into your cheek there. If there is no revenge you will look weak, and with the law on your side how can you resist?"

It was true, Robin had always sought revenge, and he hadn't even had the law on his side. He hadn't even had a bleeding face and broken heart to make him seek revenge. So what was the difference?

The difference was that on the chessboard Robin was the king of the good pieces, Marian at his side as queen with his band of merry men as his bishops and rooks.

On the dark side stood the sheriff, tall and proud with the crown resting just above his head, but Gisborne was merely kidding himself to assume he was anything more then a pawn. Marian wanted a king.

"I need her at the castle Gisborne, I will ask you nicely only once more. Take your revenge; leave her out of home, and then everyone wins. Well, at least both of us do. I can let her draw Robin out of the woods towards my stronghold, and you get your reputation mended."

But something held him back. Something made the sheriff's hand feel like death resting on his shoulder.

Did he want Marian at the castle? Did he want her to remind him of how beautiful she had looked in her wedding dress? How hard her punch had been? What fortune his love had bought him?

Lepers.

"Gisborne, tell me how many you have loved? How many you have used? Tell me how Marian is different?" the sheriff prompted.

Gisborne found himself at a loss for words. What had made her different from the son he had left behind? What had separated her from his first love? From the kitchen maid he had promised marriage and then forgotten about? Nothing words could explain at least, but there was something there.

The look in her eyes when she lied, it had been a nice look.

The way tears only seemed to highlight her perfect features.

How calm and steady her hand had been when she drove his wedding ring into his cheek.

Nothing he could express in words, but there was something that had differentiated her from the rest.

"If you continue to cry I will have to have the tears tortured out of you," the sheriff threatened, his patience wearing thin with the lonely man in front of him. He was like the rich man who poked fun at the man who couldn't afford bread. Gisborne felt that perhaps one should not poke the wound of a man whose hurt is far greater then yours. "She took your ring and used it to cut your flesh. She lied to your face. She left you for Robin Hood in front of the entire chapel."

The words whispered in his ear poked at another wound Robin had dealt him. The blood that Marian had melted off his frozen heart was now set to a boil at these words.

Maybe, just maybe, revenge was the answer.

He would show her the price of humiliation. He would make her beg forgiveness at his feet, and then he would still not forgive her. He would show Marian her place in this world.

Even if he didn't know her place himself.

"I see the tears have stopped," the sheriff laughed. For it was pride that hurt man the deepest. It was an injured pride, not an injured heart, which would push Gisborne to revenge. "What is it you intend to do?"

"I shall do only what has been asked of me. I plan to ask for my ring back," Gisborne responded, grabbing the torch off the wall and storming out the arched doorway.

~*~*~

_~Maid Marian~_

She watched her home erupt into devouring flames, the tears burning her own cheeks in similar comparison.

Her own screaming could barely be heard above the laughter of the guards, the crack of the flames, and the pleads for help from inside. They hadn't pulled her father from the fire as they had her.

But a separate voice broke through the crowd, exuding composure enough to silence even the screaming flames.

"Each one of you will receive one beating for every singed hair that man has," Gisborne screamed from his mounted horse as black as night.

From the ground Marian felt her relief wash over her like rose water. She had known Gisborne; she had known no amount of humiliation would cause him to hurt any part of her life. In then end it had become his greatest weakness.

And yet she couldn't stop the tears as she watched her childhood home burn, and with it all hopes of forgiveness. And what was all this for? She had left Gisborne for Robin, but as her home burned to the ground whose arms were it that lifted her from the dirt her own tears were turning to mud? As the roof caved who was it that secured her on her horse and made more demands in regards to the safety of her father?

It sure as hell wasn't Robin.

The road was lit as the horses stumbled along, both her and Gisborne at the front of the party pretending it was the moon that lit their way. Even though tonight there was no moon to be seen in the sky.

She could barely spare a glance towards Gisborne, his smug face burned stronger then the ravenous flames, his frozen eyes causing more disruption in her life then the ashes of her only home.

It was foolish to think that maybe he had shed tears over her. It was foolish to believe he wouldn't sink to her level for revenge. He had promised her protection in exchange for her love. It was only to be assumed that once she had withdrawn her love from the agreement he would withdraw her safety in return.

And yet she couldn't stop the sting of tears even once they had escaped the acidic smoke. Would Gisborne judge her for them, mistake them for weakness, or would he assume they were over her lost home? She tried her hardest to appear strong, for she couldn't let him know the tears were for him.

For his damaged soul, how she wished to reach out and repair the damage. But he kept his horse just close enough to catch her if she fell, and far enough so that she couldn't touch the smooth leather draped over his shoulder. She couldn't brush away the long lock of dark hair matted with blood from the cut at his cheek.

"I was only following orders Marian," she heard him say, reaching across the darkness with a slender arm to steady her, the tears racking though her body causing her to slide on the smooth horsehair.

And how warm his touch was, how she wished it could simply go back to being comfort, but tonight it was warm with flame. It was warm with smoldering ashes that had come in and destroyed her. If she didn't remove his touch from her skin she feared she too would explode into flames. If she didn't shrug him off he would never learn that two wrongs never make a right.

As his hand dropped back at his side she watched the muscles clench into a fist. She could see his cheeks flush a paler shade of pink then most. Was it anger or regret that caused him to do so?

"What can I do when my superior demands something of me? Marian, you know that in life we have choices, and it seems lately everyone has been picking the easiest one," he said, biting back more bitter words that stung like his knife had at her side. Even remembering the damage he could do when angry made the scar at her side hurt. And Robin had been to blame for that scar as well.

"You should have said no," her voice whispered against her will, the tears softening it into melted ice that seemed to drip to the ground.

"And you should have said yes," Gisborne snapped as he spurred his horse forward, tossing over his shoulder the ring he had placed so carefully on her hand with great dreams of their future.

It was still crusted with his blood as she slipped it over her finger.

* * *


End file.
